A/N: This was an experiment for me. Like a writing exercise. Shelve all the sarcasm and fluff, and see what comes out. Inspired by a friend, and The Fray's "Run for Your Life."
This House is on Fire
If one of us falls,
the other will soon be following.
Life is like a spectrum.
That much was clear to Quinn.
Sure, major events can be categorized and listed chronologically, but they only form the skeleton of the spectrum. The broad "blue" and "red" headings. Life and death. Maybe a graduation or two. A wedding. A birth. But it's what comes between the "blue" and "red" that causes everything to blur together.
Like warm mornings in bed with your wife. When rain is pattering against the window, and she's laughing because you keep trying to catch grapes in your mouth, but they land in the crinkles of the covers instead.
Or snowy afternoons in Central Park. Sitting on a bench and watching a group of kids build forts, holding her hands inside your own pockets because she likes to wear the fuzzy mittens instead of the warmer winter gloves.
These are moments that aren't distinguishable by bands on a timeline. Feelings grow out of these moments. They sprout one day, and then grow until they overpower you, and you're left wondering where they came from.
Quinn ran through Central Park, wondering when her life started belonging to somebody else. When had Rachel Berry completely overtaken her? Body and soul. When had Rachel become her life? Maybe it was in bed, years ago. Or on some random bench. Maybe it was a bench Quinn was sprinting past right now, boots thudding rhythmically against the concrete, keys jangling frantically in her pocket like they were begging for escape.
All Quinn knew was that Rachel was in trouble.
"Quinn, there's been an accident." James had stated slowly. His voice wavered only slightly. Quinn had frozen in the middle of the path; she held her bag in one hand, and pressed her phone to her face with the other.
Her heart felt like it stopped, and her chest seized up. She wasn't sure if she was holding her breath, but she couldn't seem to get any words out. Rachel's director never called her. Why couldn't Rachel call her?
"They have her at Sinai." James continued slowly. Quinn wondered how it was so quiet on his end of the line. "One of our rehearsal stages collapsed, and took a lighting tower with it. It got her pretty bad."
Quinn sucked in huge breath of air, and then choked on it. She placed her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from crying out.
"Is she-is she-she's okay, right?" she asked desperately, ignoring the tears on her cheeks and the break in her voice. She wanted to say "alive" instead of "okay," but the words wouldn't come out. She watched a goose fly overhead like it was her lifeline.
James was silent for a moment. "Quinn…you need to come quickly." His voice cracked on the last word, and Quinn didn't listen any further. She dropped her bag and turned around in one movement. Its contents spilled all over the path.
A bottle of water. Lipstick. Sunglasses. Extra gloves for Rachel's small hands.
Quinn left it all behind, and took off back the way she'd come.
She ran for her life.
Both of you fell the same day,
You don't know why.
Quinn didn't bother grabbing a cab. Holiday traffic had the city in a gridlock. She hit the edge of the Park and headed east, boots hammering against the pavement. She didn't register anybody's faces. People sprinting through the city were probably a regular occurrence. Quinn wondered how many she had seen running for their lives. How many she'd written off as "crazy New Yorkers."
She hit an intersection along the easternmost edge of the Park, and the hospital came into view. The only picture in Quinn's mind was Rachel's face kissing her goodbye that morning, flushed from her shower and smiling and smelling like strawberries.
She'd reminded Quinn to buy orange juice on her way home.
Quinn's jacket billowed out around her as she flew.
She couldn't breathe by the time she burst through the doors of the emergency room. And her heart hurt. She was a runner. It shouldn't hurt that badly.
"Quinn! Quinn, hey!" James called out from across the crowded waiting room.
Quinn's wild eyes met his, and she stumbled her way through the mob of people. People bleeding profusely or keeled over or vomiting into trash cans. She tried to ignore them, because she just knew whatever happened to Rachel was so much worse.
Worse than the man missing two fingers. It made her want to throw up.
"Whoa, hey." James said lowly, grabbing her shoulders as she reached him. He patted down her mussed hair and looked her in the eye. "Hey, Quinn. Breathe, okay. Let's sit down."
Quinn realized she was swaying. She was nauseous. And she was hot. So hot. She squirmed out of her jacket and shook her head rapidly.
"Where is she? Where-I have to see her. Where is she?" Quinn begged, distraught. She looked around frantically, trying to struggle out of James's grip. He wouldn't let go, and he grabbed her chin to make her look at him. Quinn registered that he'd been crying.
"Stop. Stop, okay. Take a breath, Quinn." James urged. Quinn finally complied. It made her chest hurt. Her head hurt. She didn't want to stand there. She needed to move.
"Where is she?" she asked in a more controlled voice.
"She's in surgery."
Quinn shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "What-what for? What happened?" The last word came out as a whimper and James squeezed her shoulders.
"She was practicing the number on the bleachers. Something-I don't know. God, it just, half of it just gave out." James sighed, and Quinn tilted her head helplessly to get him to continue.
"The lighting tower fell on Rachel."
Quinn moaned and tilted her head up to the ceiling.
"It got-it got Emily, too, but she was-it was just minor injuries. Rachel was conscious, but…she couldn't move when we got to her."
Quinn finally started crying. Aloud. Because she'd been crying for the past half hour. James guided her to an open seat and shushed her and brushed her hair behind her ear.
Quinn needed to see her. She needed to see Rachel. She had to stop her pitiful crying and see her wife and comfort her, because Rachel was the one who needed it. This train of thought did nothing to quiet Quinn's sobs, and it was only when a doctor came out and took them into an empty hallway that she was able to contain herself.
For Rachel.
"Rachel's in intensive care now. She's stable." The doctor informed her with kind eyes.
Quinn nodded, sniffling and waiting to hear more.
"She has a broken wrist, from where she tried to stop her fall. We managed to stop the internal bleeding in surgery, and there isn't…a scratch on her."
Quinn's heart was in her throat. She stared at the doctor, silently begging him to continue.
He took half a step closer and lowered his voice slightly. Quinn tensed.
"Your wife suffered an incomplete spinal cord injury. Axonometesis. Basically…nerve damage in the lumbar area of her spinal cord."
Quinn bit her tongue and dug her fingernails into her hand.
"There is the potential for nerve regeneration, but, right now, Quinn, Rachel has very limited movement in her legs.
Quinn shook her head and wiped her eyes and swallowed the blood she could taste on her tongue.
"Just-just take me to her. Please."
You're desperate to hear her footsteps again.
But this house is on fire, we need to go.
Rachel looked perfect. She always looked perfect. Flawless. There was not a scratch on her, and the cast on her wrist was hidden under the white hospital blanket. Quinn rushed to the side of the bed. She banged her hip on a cart against the wall because she refused to take her eyes off her wife. Sleeping peacefully.
God, how Quinn wished she was in the bed instead of Rachel.
"Hey, baby." She whispered brokenly, leaning over to kiss Rachel's forehead. And then her cheek. She avoided the IV and took Rachel's hand. She didn't even register the soft swing of the door as the nurse left them in peace.
Quinn focused on the even rise and fall of Rachel's chest as she spoke.
"It's gonna be alright, Rachel, sweetheart." She said quietly. It seemed like anything louder than a whisper would disturb all the machines. The wires, the beeping. Quinn didn't want to mess it up. She wanted to untangle Rachel from all of it and carry her home.
"I'm here now. It's okay." Quinn wiped the tears from her eyes and put her head on the side of the bed, pressing Rachel's unresponsive hand to her mouth. She waited for her wife to wake up.
She had a fire inside.
And that terrified you.
Quinn was dreaming about geese when she was jostled from her sleep. Not so much jostled, as nudged. She slipped quietly back to the real world, and her chest tightened when she sat up and looked around and remembered what happened.
Why she was sitting in a bare hospital room with an aching back and throbbing head.
And then she saw Rachel's eyelashes fluttering and her mouth moving, and Quinn almost fell out of her chair trying to scoot as close as possible.
"Rachel, baby, can you hear me?" Quinn didn't know if she'd ever be able to speak at a normal volume again.
Rachel hummed roughly, and Quinn started crying again when those lovely brown eyes finally focused on her. She actually stood up because she couldn't contain herself.
"What do you need, sweetheart? Can I-can I get you anything? Water?"
Rachel blinked a few times and nodded, squeezing Quinn's hand. Quinn leaned over and kissed her forehead, lingering for a few extra moments before she pulled back and grabbed the cup with the bendy straw off the cart.
She held it up for Rachel, holding back her dark hair and putting a hand under her chin to make sure nothing spilled.
"Quinn." Rachel finally choked out.
Quinn cupped Rachel's cheek. She was never letting it go again. "I love you, baby. It's okay. You just had an accident."
"I still-I still can't move…" Rachel's voice was hoarse, but she was staring at her legs and her expression was pained. Quinn squeezed her hand tighter to prevent herself from crying.
"I still can't move my-my legs." Rachel whispered, distressed.
Quinn reached out slowly and took her chin, forcing Rachel to look at her instead of the feet she was probably trying to wiggle around.
"It's nerve damage, baby. In your back." Quinn explained quietly, gaze fixed on watery brown eyes. "Hopefully…it's-it's temporary."
Rachel took a deep shaky breath and looked back down at her feet, and then at Quinn again. "I can't-I can't move my legs."
She looked so confused. And sad. Quinn got out of her seat when Rachel started crying. She sat down on the edge of the bed instead and rolled herself lightly into Rachel's side, as slowly as possible. Rachel immediately grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her closer.
Quinn kissed the top of her head and ran her hands through dark hair, pressing Rachel's face into her shoulder. "It's okay, baby." She murmured softly, letting her own tears fall. "I've got you now. We'll get through this. Everything will be okay."
Rachel only cried harder. All Quinn could do was shush her and kiss her head and hold her tight.
"What-what if it's not?" Rachel stuttered into Quinn's shoulder.
It was too muffled to understand, so Quinn pulled back and wiped helplessly at Rachel's face. "What, sweetheart?"
"What if-what if it's not okay?
Quinn tilted her head up to the ceiling and prayed for the millionth time for Him to make this better. "I'll still be here." She said quietly.
"If I can't…walk?"
"You're my life, Rach. If your feet never touch the ground again, I'll always love you more than anything else. And I'm not going anywhere, and we'll get through this, and you will be fine, baby."
"I love you." Rachel cried, a little quieter than before.
Quinn ran her fingers through Rachel's hair until Rachel fell asleep. Quinn couldn't sleep. Probably never again. The hospital room was eerie. It was quiet except for Rachel's sniffly breathing and the beeping of the monitors. Quinn needed to slide off the bed to stretch her muscles, but she refused to let go of Rachel.
She was a broken girl in a bedframe. If Rachel couldn't climb out of that bed, Quinn wouldn't either. For tonight. Rachel had fallen, and Quinn would follow.
I know the hunger inside of you is strong,
You can only hold back the river so long.
Quinn wheeled Rachel out of the hospital a week later. Rachel was quiet, and she held onto a teddy bear that Santana and Brittany had brought by. It was wearing a shirt that said "Get Well Berry Soon." Quinn leaned down in the elevator of their building and kissed the top of Rachel's head.
"Welcome home, baby."
Rachel only sighed.
Physical therapy started immediately. The therapist would come and pull on Rachel's legs. Bend her knees, get her to wiggle her toes. Rachel was cooperative most of the time. She told Quinn she wanted to be on that stage again. She wanted to be able to pounce on Quinn in bed and stand on her tippy toes to kiss her lips whenever she wanted.
Then other days, Rachel was sullen and depressed. Quinn had moved all of her clothes to the lower shelves. She'd rearranged the kitchen cabinets and moved the furniture to make wider gaps for the wheelchair.
And then Rachel would spend a little too much time reaching fruitlessly for the coffee filters, and everything would fall apart. For a while.
"Rachel." Quinn called anxiously, standing in their bedroom and staring at the bathroom door.
Rachel had said she could handle a shower herself. For once. So Quinn had helped her onto the built-in shower seat, and then left the bathroom.
Rachel had never asked Quinn to let her shower alone before.
And now the water had shut off and Quinn couldn't hear any movement.
"Baby, I'm coming in." Quinn warned quietly, pushing open the door slowly in case Rachel was on the other side.
Quinn had a moment where her chest seized up and her heart broke when she saw Rachel sitting on the shower floor. One hand on the seat she'd slid off, the other helplessly on her lap. She couldn't even bring her knees up to cover herself.
Quinn rushed over and wrenched open the shower door. She got in, ignoring the soaking feeling on her socks, and crouched down next to her wife.
"Sweetheart, Rach, what happened?" She coaxed softly, brushing away the dark hair plastered to her face and the tears falling from her eyes.
Rachel just closed her eyes and shook her head. She crossed her arms and hunched forward a little bit.
Quinn leaned away for a second to grab a towel and drape it over Rachel's lower lap. Restore some modesty, even though she was her wife. Anything to make Rachel more comfortable.
"Did you fall off?" Quinn asked quietly, prying one of Rachel's hands off her chest.
Rachel leaned in to Quinn's side, and Quinn was forced to sit on the wet shower floor. She didn't mind.
"What if-what if I can never do it again?" Rachel sniffled.
"Do what again?"
Rachel made a whiny noise. She was shaking, so Quinn shifted and looped her arms under Rachel's knees and shoulders, scooping her up easily and stepping out of the shower. She bypassed the wheelchair because she wanted to be on the same level as Rachel. She was tired of crouching and looking up, or standing and looking down.
Quinn continued into the bedroom and settled Rachel gently on the bed instead, back against the pillows. She replaced the towel with a blanket, and then plopped down next to her.
"Anything." Rachel whispered, staring down at her legs again.
Quinn frowned. "What, baby?"
Rachel took a shaky breath and hesitantly met Quinn's concerned eyes.
"What if I can't-I can't do any of it again? Perform…Take a…take a fucking shower."
Quinn winced and kissed the side of Rachel's head.
Rachel shrugged her away angrily, and Quinn swallowed the hurt that caused. Rachel was allowed to be mad. Even if it was misdirected.
"I can't-I can't…God." Rachel sighed. She looked back down at her feet. "I can't even…go to the bathroom by myself. I can't…love you properly, Quinn."
"Rachel." Quinn breathed out, disbelievingly. "Love me properly?"
God. This girl just didn't understand.
"Baby. Lovely." Quinn ducked her head and caught Rachel's eye. "You love me. I know you love me, and that is all I need. You're perfect."
Rachel put her head back under Quinn's chin.
"It's okay to need a little help sometimes. I'll always help." Quinn continued. She rubbed Rachel's back. "Remember when I got food poisoning and threw up all over your favorite shoes?"
Quinn smiled when she felt Rachel's lips move against her neck..
"You stayed up with me for two nights straight, Rach. I think you had to help me into the shower quite a few times. And drag me to bed. And lug around my bucket."
Rachel tugged on the blonde hair at the nape of Quinn's neck. "That's different." She murmured with a small smile.
Quinn hummed. "You're getting better, baby. The therapy's working. Your toes are more wiggly than ever."
Rachel demonstrated, and Quinn grinned at the movement under the blanket.
"You'll be on that stage again soon. Don't you worry. You're a star, baby. And you still have the voice of an angel." Quinn assured, pulling the quilt up to cover the rest of Rachel's body. "You could turn into an octopus and I'd still be right here. You don't have to go it alone."
Rachel sighed into Quinn's chest. "I don't need eight. Just two, please."
Quinn watched Rachel's toes wiggle. "You're well on your way."
All that you are,
All that you want
Rachel was walking again in five months. She wasn't dancing or running or acting, but she was walking. Hobbling, really. She had a cane that Quinn had helped her decorate with gold star stickers, and they'd make their way around Central Park every day. Very slowly. If they made it to the Park at all.
They usually wouldn't get very far before Rachel had to stop. Then Quinn would turn them around, buy them a couple of Italian ices on the way home, and massage the stiffness out of Rachel's legs when they were sprawled out on the living room couch.
Rachel had her fire back, most of the time. Sometimes, too much fire. She'd continue walking even when her legs couldn't handle it. Quinn wouldn't notice until she'd look down and see tears silently falling from her wife's eyes.
Rachel received many piggy backs during this stage of recovery.
"People are staring at me." Rachel muttered one afternoon. They were walking on one of the more crowded paths in the Park, looking for an ice cream stand.
Quinn knew that people stared. They probably recognized Rachel. If they didn't, well…It's not every day you see a young woman with a stilted walk and a cane.
"People always stare at you, babe. You're gorgeous." Quinn said with a smile. Rachel kept her face angled towards Quinn, and Quinn glared at anybody whose eyes lingered a little too long.
"That's not why." Rachel said quietly.
Quinn put a hand on the small of her back, trying to shield her from prying eyes. "Your fans miss you. You haven't been in the news. They want to know how you are."
Rachel looked up at Quinn and jutted out her chin. "I'll be back soon."
"Better than ever." Quinn assured, giving the evil eye to some snickering assholes at the edge of the path.
Rachel scoffed. "I think I'll be…stiffer than ever."
"Rach, five months ago we didn't know if you'd ever be on stage again. At all. You'll work through it. I know it."
Rachel stopped as they finally reached an ice cream truck, and Quinn stepped up to order. Two cones. One chocolate, one vegan strawberry. Quinn registered Rachel shifting from side to side. She took the cones from the vendor and pulled Rachel over to edge of the path.
"Do you need to stop?"
Rachel looked down at her feet and shook her head. "No, I'm good."
"Rachel." Quinn said sternly. When Rachel didn't look up, she sighed and softened her voice. "Don't lie to me."
"They're all tingly."
Quinn frowned. "Like…needles? They feel like they're asleep?"
Rachel shuffled her feet. "Heading that way."
Quinn held out Rachel's ice cream, but didn't let go of the cone until Rachel made eye contact with her. Then she raised her eyebrows and turned around, bending down a little bit.
"You've been standing too long. Hop on, sweetheart."
Rachel didn't even protest. When her legs were going numb, what the hell else could she do? She climbed on Quinn's back and got strawberry ice cream in blonde hair.
Quinn noticed and chuckled. "You're lucky I allow refreshments on the ride."
Rachel grinned and wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck, pressing a kiss into the golden hair. "Carry me home, baby."
Run for your life, my love,
Run and you don't give up
It was another four months before Rachel's legs were fully functional again. The accident had taken up a year of their lives. Filled it with worry and pain and anxiety, and tied Quinn and Rachel closer than ever before.
Quinn had never thought about leaving. Since that horrible day, when she saw the lone goose in the sky on her sprint through the Park, the thought had never crossed her mind. Rachel had been difficult, resentful at times, and downright depressed, because she had a right to be. Quinn took it in stride, with love, because this was her life, and the last thing she was going to do was walk away.
Rachel would wake her up in the middle of the night to apologize, or to let her know what she was feeling. She'd put her head on Quinn's shoulder and tear down all the walls that the accident had raised
And then Quinn would put on a movie and fetch some grapes, and try to toss them in her mouth to make Rachel laugh. Rachel always would.
"I need physical exercise, Quinn. This'll be good for me." Rachel argued, standing in a field in Central Park with one hand on her hip and a Frisbee dangling from the other.
Quinn scrunched up her face. "Playing Frisbee with you is like chasing wild geese. Or butterflies. Cheetahs. Anything that's impossible to catch."
Rachel's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"Baby, you're terrible at it. I end up traipsing around the whole field because your aim is horrendous." Quinn said with a smile. Rachel scoffed and shook her head.
"And maybe…maybe we shouldn't be running around too much." Quinn suggested. She waved her arm vaguely in the direction of the path. "We could walk, or…skip."
Rachel's hand dropped off her hip and she took a step closer to Quinn. "We're not skipping through the streets, babe. The doctors said running would be good. I'll stop after twenty minutes."
Quinn didn't say anything. She looked down at their bare feet and her lips quirked up. Rachel's were smaller than hers. And darker. They were solid and still.
"Please." Rachel urged playfully. "For me."
"I'm not playing Frisbee. I'll end up in a tree." Quinn complained.
Rachel stood up on her tip toes and kissed Quinn's cheek. "Hide and seek?"
Quinn snorted and smiled fondly down at her wife. "I don't know what kind of action-packed hide and seek you play, but that doesn't usually involve much running."
Rachel thought for a moment, and then bounced on her toes. "Tag! Let's play tag."
"I won't go easy on you." Quinn warned.
"You're it." Rachel proclaimed with a smile. She turned to take off, but Quinn caught her around the waist with one arm and tugged her back.
She kissed the corner of Rachel's mouth, and then whispered, "Run for your life, baby."
Rachel took off when Quinn set her free, bare feet pounding across the grass and dark hair flowing behind her. Quinn listened to the laughter that Rachel left in her wake, and then she ran for her life.
Run for your life right now
And if you don't know how
I'll come back with you and take all that's true
And leave all that's burned behind
Run for your life